


Gilmour and Mason

by sweetasscas



Series: TFW Bingo [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4074859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetasscas/pseuds/sweetasscas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys find a box of puppies outside an abandoned warehouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gilmour and Mason

**Author's Note:**

> [TFW Bingo Prompt](http://teamfreewillbingo.tumblr.com/): Free Space
> 
> For the beautiful and talented [ColtsAndQuills](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ColtsAndQuills/pseuds/ColtsAndQuills).

The werewolf they’d tracked to the abandoned warehouse put up a hell of a fight, but it wasn’t a match for an angel with stolen grace, a former demon with the Mark of Cain, and 6’4” behemoth of a hunter. They’re loading the car after taking care of the corpse when Cas hears whimpering. He finds the box tucked against the side of the building. Five little pups yip and whine when he picks them up, box and all, and carries them back to the car.

Dean loses the “no dogs in the car” rule when Cas smiles and tucks them into the backseat of the Lincoln. Sam suggests they get them checked out at the local vet, and reluctantly convinces Cas to give up most of them.

Dean knows immediately, of course, and is standing at the door to the garage as soon as they pull in. Sam pulls two cardboard carriers from the backseat and hands one off to Cas. Dean has his arms crossed over his chest, but neither Sam nor Cas are buying it. On cue they pull the wiggling balls of fluff from their boxes. One is solid black with white feet and a roan patch over her left eye. The other is spotted: black, tan, and white, with brilliant ice blue eyes.

For the first few days they follow Sam everywhere, tiny nails tapping along the concrete floor, trotting to match his gargantuan stride. Cas institutes a “no human food” rule after one (or both) of them vomits dramatic colors down the hallway. Dean deliberately doesn’t mention that Cas is the biggest pushover when it comes to feeding them from the table.

They soon discover that Gilmour, the blue-eyed wonder, is the snuggler, while Mason is stand-offish, quiet, shy. Mason follows Gilly’s lead, chasing after Sam or following Cas on his walks through the woods that surround the bunker. Left to their own devices, Mason will find a quiet place to nap, which usually happens to be wherever Dean is.

He doesn’t notice at first. He’s sprawled under the Impala, giving her an oil change and some TLC, when he sees the dog pad in and curl up under the workbench. A couple days later, when he’s elbow deep in the Lincoln, she curls up against a tire, just out of his way. He starts to deny it when Sam catches him talking to her, and instead just shrugs and scratches Mason behind her ear.

After a few weeks, they’re just part of the family, ingratiated into this tired little group. Routines are set without discussion: Sam walks them first thing in the morning, when he goes for his run. They follow him the entire route. Come back, feed, water, and they settle on his bed for a nap while he showers. By the time he’s out, Cas is up making breakfast. They play under his feet until Dean comes in and shoos them out of the kitchen. Later, when the men settle into the library for research, the pups curl under the tables: Gilly laying her head in Sam’s lap for attention, Mason stretched out under Dean’s legs. Cas just smiles and scratches whatever ear comes closest at any given time. No one but Dean knows that they follow him on his midnight walks, quiet and stoically padding behind him on his circuits around the bunker.

Three months in and Dean realizes that the mutts aren’t exactly normal. They’re dogs, sure (he checked when Cas and Sam weren’t looking. He’s not taking any chances after that skinwalker incident), but they’re huge. They’re paws are the size of salad plates, and if they ever grow into their ears, they’ll have friggin’ radar. The vet in town clocks them at just over four months old and guesses, with more amusement than Dean appreciates, that they’re Newfoundlands. Mutts, obviously, but more Newfie than otherwise. Dean congratulates Cas on his 100-pound dogs and hides in the garage for the rest of the day.

Six months in and no one denies the shift in dynamics. The dogs have the run of the place, going in and out through the garage as they choose. Bedroom doors stay open at night, in case one or both of them want to shift between rooms. Extra precautions are made, devil’s traps and salt lines and warding everywhere they’re necessary. The dogs just ignore them or step over them.

Sam takes Gilly on a solo hunt - two vamps holed up in the basement of a tenement building in Chicago. He ganks the first one no problem, but doesn’t see the second one coming. Gilly, 90 pounds of puppy versus 100 years of vampire, rips his throat out.

Cas takes Mason on a research run. Everyone at the university library believes she’s a service dog in training. They coo and scruff her ears while he surreptitiously copies thousand-year-old texts.

A year in and they’ve averted Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory, and the dogs are massive. Cas has his grace; Dean has his humanity; Sam has a pair of 200-pound mutts. They sleep in Dean’s room more often than not, sprawled across his bed while he salvages whatever corner he can claim. He bitches, of course, but he secretly loves it.


End file.
